Showing results for 2018
The Places That Hurt: An Interview with Elle Nash
Lauren Grabowski
When I was twelve or thirteen my grandmother gave me a book by art historian and occultist Fred Gettings about the tarot. My grandmother really helped foster my imagination about magic.
glossary of coping mechanisms
Jessica Morey-Collins
Glass of Water—
Selves rasp against each other. Mother's little bucket of wisdom tipped over; teacher's sweet girl has curdled. Mere glimpse of the calm hand of an honest femme could heal—cool
Chen Chen Interview
Daniel Pieczkolon
Most of the time, I am skeptical of the notion that a writer can find his or her voice. I warn my first-year students against believing the maxim because, to me, it presupposes that every writer
Why I Won't Work At The Mill
Nicholas Rys
The main thing about washing dishes at Ronny’s Café is I can come into work pretty fucked up and no one seems to notice—least of all Todd.
Wonderful Wonderful
James Gianetti
I turn the knob to the right, bang my hands against the steering wheel, and deafeningly inform the world that I’m out of my cage and doing just fine.
We Need to Talk
Lauren Grabowski
I immediately remembered the Sex and the City episode where Samantha wants to sleep with the Franciscan priest she refers to as Friar Fuck.
Chelsea Martin Poems
Elizabeth Ellen
In these poems I am using ‘Chelsea Martin’ as a pseudonym for someone who is not Chelsea Martin.
three poems
Mary Boo Anderson
I've been socialized to be alive / the quiet death of women eating salad
Alcoholics
Bud Smith
Dad’s side are all boring fucks. Mom’s side, god—all my mom’s brothers thought they were the outlaw rebel cowboys of New Jersey. Wild ones. Alcoholics. They were fun, while they lasted. All those men
Three Poems
Dana Alsamsam
We lie here together, gold in charred hands, / pulling the ash from each other’s hair.
Art is life: Foof!
Uzodinma Okehi
As always, feel I’ve mentioned this elsewhere—But here’s how deep I’d get into something without being able to have it make sense.
Five Poems
David Schaefer
This is the most difficult sermon, / The one where the disciples / Burn the hamburger buns and / Christ nearly misses his train.
Four Poems
Vandana Khanna
I grow our loneliness in my mouth, feed you— / sweet and bleak— under a halo of buzzing stars.
Five Poems
Elizabeth Schmuhl
The snow is beautiful and I want to die. Who could / refuse this softness?
Three Is A Rational Number
Michele Finn Johnson
It’s official—I’m rocking a solid C minus in algebra. Lola is pulling straight A’s, and Mom looks mystified as she posts Lola’s successes on the front of our fridge.
so fast in silence
Timston Johnston
They had taken all the milking cows but left us the wheat fields that fed them. Only Boy handles our cow creamer with two hands, respectfully, as we consider it a new-religion relic. He is too
Stephen Malkmus
John Thornburg
Stephen Malkmus
Stephen Malkmus
February 13th, 2001
Matador Records
12 songs, 42 Minutes
I ripped this CD onto my half-dead laptop in the dingy radio station studio deep in the
GOODNIGHT, BEAUTIFUL WOMEN by Anna Noyes
Michael Deagler
An interview with Anna Noyes